Read Online Make them Cry by Keven O’Brien - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Keven O’Brien
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in the catacombs, you’re screwed. This is your last chance….”
Jack closed the old metal door and locked it. He pocketed the key and glanced around the darkened storage area. He told himself he was alone down here. Yet as he climbed out the basement window, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Father Tom Garcia sounded groggy over the phone. Jack knew he’d woken him. The digital clock on his desk read 11:11.
“Sorry if I woke you,” Jack said. He sat at his desk. “It’s about John Costello’s drowning. I followed a lead, and snuck into the church basement. I just came back. There’s, something in the catacombs I think you should take a look at.”
“What did you find?” Garcia asked.
“A few of the boys have been using one of the grave sites for a meeting place. I found something that looks like blood on one of the stones.”
“Was the blood still wet?”
“No, it was dry.”
“Well, we can’t do anything about it now,” Garcia said, yawning. “Let’s wait until morning, Jack. I’ll meet you in front of the church at six. If this…um, blood is already dry, it’s not about to evaporate before then.”
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, Father.”
“Call me Tom. Oh, and Jack, you haven’t told anyone about this…new discovery, have you?”
“No, nobody.”
“Let’s keep it that way for now. Okay? See you in the A.M. ”
Jack hung up the phone. He started to pull off his dirty trousers. The phone rang. He thought Tom Garcia was calling back, and he grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
“Father Murphy?” It was a woman, her voice raspy. In the background, Jack could hear music, and people chattering. “It’s Maggie Costello, Father. Did I wake you up? Were you sleeping?”
“No, it’s okay. How are you?”
“Well, I’m not so hot,” she said. “I missed you this afternoon. I drove up to collect Johnny’s things.”
“Oh, I wish I’d known you were coming by.”
“Listen, are you busy right now?” she asked. “I’d really like to talk with you. I don’t have anyone else I can talk with. I—I’m here across the lake from you at the Lakeside Inn. Will you come have a drink with me?”
“With all the people I talked to yesterday, why didn’t anyone tell me about this other boy who drowned in Lake Leroy?” Maggie asked him. She took a sip of her drink. “The waitress said they hushed it up. So tell me what’s going on. Are they trying to hush up Johnny’s death, too?”
Jack shrugged uneasily. People were staring at them: a priest and a pretty woman sitting at the window table, wrapped up in quiet conversation. He shouldn’t have worn his clerical collar here tonight.
Maggie looked beautiful, her red hair and pale skin illuminated by an amber neon light in the window. She wore a black, scooped-neck pullover. She’d clearly had a few drinks; her speech was slightly muddled.
“I don’t think they’re trying to ‘hush up’ John’s death,” Jack said carefully. “Until they find out exactly what happened, they’d like to avoid a lot of bad press and gossip.”
“Did you know about this other boy who drowned?” she asked pointedly.
“Not much, but it sounds similar to Johnny’s situation. He was a freshman, swimming back from a party one night.” Jack glanced down at the varnished tabletop. He didn’t think he should tell her about Julian Doyle’s missing fingers. He wasn’t even sure if Maggie knew that a couple of Johnny’s toes had been severed. What was to be gained by citing those grisly similarities?
He sighed. “Anyway, this other drowning happened three years ago, before I came here.”
Maggie studied him. “I think the school is keeping certain things from me, Jack. Tell me the truth. Was Johnny involved in something shady? Is that why he was killed? I keep wondering about that money he had hidden.”
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know how he got
Jack closed the old metal door and locked it. He pocketed the key and glanced around the darkened storage area. He told himself he was alone down here. Yet as he climbed out the basement window, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Father Tom Garcia sounded groggy over the phone. Jack knew he’d woken him. The digital clock on his desk read 11:11.
“Sorry if I woke you,” Jack said. He sat at his desk. “It’s about John Costello’s drowning. I followed a lead, and snuck into the church basement. I just came back. There’s, something in the catacombs I think you should take a look at.”
“What did you find?” Garcia asked.
“A few of the boys have been using one of the grave sites for a meeting place. I found something that looks like blood on one of the stones.”
“Was the blood still wet?”
“No, it was dry.”
“Well, we can’t do anything about it now,” Garcia said, yawning. “Let’s wait until morning, Jack. I’ll meet you in front of the church at six. If this…um, blood is already dry, it’s not about to evaporate before then.”
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, Father.”
“Call me Tom. Oh, and Jack, you haven’t told anyone about this…new discovery, have you?”
“No, nobody.”
“Let’s keep it that way for now. Okay? See you in the A.M. ”
Jack hung up the phone. He started to pull off his dirty trousers. The phone rang. He thought Tom Garcia was calling back, and he grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
“Father Murphy?” It was a woman, her voice raspy. In the background, Jack could hear music, and people chattering. “It’s Maggie Costello, Father. Did I wake you up? Were you sleeping?”
“No, it’s okay. How are you?”
“Well, I’m not so hot,” she said. “I missed you this afternoon. I drove up to collect Johnny’s things.”
“Oh, I wish I’d known you were coming by.”
“Listen, are you busy right now?” she asked. “I’d really like to talk with you. I don’t have anyone else I can talk with. I—I’m here across the lake from you at the Lakeside Inn. Will you come have a drink with me?”
“With all the people I talked to yesterday, why didn’t anyone tell me about this other boy who drowned in Lake Leroy?” Maggie asked him. She took a sip of her drink. “The waitress said they hushed it up. So tell me what’s going on. Are they trying to hush up Johnny’s death, too?”
Jack shrugged uneasily. People were staring at them: a priest and a pretty woman sitting at the window table, wrapped up in quiet conversation. He shouldn’t have worn his clerical collar here tonight.
Maggie looked beautiful, her red hair and pale skin illuminated by an amber neon light in the window. She wore a black, scooped-neck pullover. She’d clearly had a few drinks; her speech was slightly muddled.
“I don’t think they’re trying to ‘hush up’ John’s death,” Jack said carefully. “Until they find out exactly what happened, they’d like to avoid a lot of bad press and gossip.”
“Did you know about this other boy who drowned?” she asked pointedly.
“Not much, but it sounds similar to Johnny’s situation. He was a freshman, swimming back from a party one night.” Jack glanced down at the varnished tabletop. He didn’t think he should tell her about Julian Doyle’s missing fingers. He wasn’t even sure if Maggie knew that a couple of Johnny’s toes had been severed. What was to be gained by citing those grisly similarities?
He sighed. “Anyway, this other drowning happened three years ago, before I came here.”
Maggie studied him. “I think the school is keeping certain things from me, Jack. Tell me the truth. Was Johnny involved in something shady? Is that why he was killed? I keep wondering about that money he had hidden.”
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know how he got
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